Child of Peace
by alisonburnis
Summary: It's only a kiss. But it's driving you crazy. Fourth piece in Inkverse. JavaJunkie.
1. Devil's Handiwork

**Disclaimer: **I am without the rights. This disclaimer prevails for any and all chapters of this fic.

This is the fourth instalment in Inkverse – after "Ink," "The Parting Glass," and "Jumping Fences," in that order. All are one-shots, and I highly recommend reading them before continuing with this. Otherwise, it's AU and pre-canon, and picks up where "Jumping Fences" left off.

The quote is borrowed from Mignon McLaughlin. (The Neurotic's Notebook, from 1960.)

And a happy birthday dedication to **gilmorefanforever**! You know I love you.

Feedback is embraced. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Devil's Handiwork

_So stupid_, you think_, to have this weakness._

You have Rory. What in God's name were you thinking?

The line falls to you, simply, obviously, mockingly. _Few of us write great novels,__all of us live them._

Whoever's writing your novel (not you, you don't want that power, and if it you, you're an idiot) has a twisted sense of humour.

You finish pouring your cup of coffee and turn off the light switch. It may be four o'clock in the morning, but what with you obsessing and analyzing and agonizing, there hasn't been a whole lot of sleeping going on.

You'll need the jet fuel to deal with your munchkin.

-

Rory talks non-stop through the entire morning until you drop her off at school. Not once does she mention Luke's. You breathe a sigh of relief, waving good-bye to her. "Love you," you say.

"I love you, too, Mommy," she says.

"Now go be smart." You give her a gentle push.

"Bye!" she waves, running to Lane. The two girls start giggling and talking and you wish everything was as simple for you as it is for Rory.

-

You're running up the stairs, taking two at a time, flying, skirt blowing, ready to…

"Lorelai?" Mia calls.

"Yes?" you say, turning around. You're supposed to be training another new girl because Maggie has gone on maternity leave and Leah has just come in today, but you pause, hand resting on the banister.

"Could I speak to you for a moment?"

"Sure," you reply.

There's that quick flutter in your stomach, that sliver of fear wedging in your brain, the one that never really has gone away: the fear of something going wrong. Of being in trouble. Of not being good enough. You know Mia would do anything in her power to make sure you stayed at the inn, and you know that you're needed at the inn, but you still have that nagging feeling behind it all.

The secret fear that everyone has.

You follow Mia into her office – you bet, not for the first time, that everyone you used to know would be surprised to see you so obedient. She shuts the door and you wait for her to sit, the scared schoolgirl.

You aren't so far removed from that, now are you?

"Lorelai," she begins, "I've been thinking of doing some changes around here – ever since Maggie announced her leave."

"Oh?" you ask. You are reduced to the polite employee, speaking only when spoken to and getting charged by the word.

She gives you a look and you allow a smile. "Unclench," she says, quietly. "It's nothing awful. In fact, it's quite good!"

"Really?" you say.

"Of course," Mia replies. "What did you think?" You say nothing, and she laughs slightly. "There's been an opening, and you, my dear, are the happy recipient of a new job offer."

"Mia, I -"

"There'll be a raise, as I'm sure you'll be happy to know. It means about the same hours, too…" She shuffles some papers and looks up at you. "How would you like to be the head housekeeper?"

"Really, Mia?" You clap your hands together, and you can feel the blush of excitement. You hug her. "Thank you!"

"I'm sure you saw it coming," she says, matter-of-factly.

"No, I…" you trail off, because, really, you haven't been thinking about that kind of thing like you usually are.

Mia laughs again. "I'll discuss the rest with you after supper."

"Yes, sure," you say.

"And Lorelai?"

"Yes?"

She smiles, and shakes her head. "Unclench," she repeats.

"Sorry."

You shut Mia's office door, and lean beside it. Laughing because you're so happy, or crying because you're so happy.

-

"So, guess what?" you say, wandering into the kitchen.

"What?" Sookie promptly says.

"I'm rich!" you exclaim.

"Did you win the lottery?" Sookie asks.

"No."

"Did you rob a bank?"

"Yes. At lunch. Me and Kissin' Kate Barlow."

"Really, what?"

"I got a promotion."

"Oh, sweetie, that's great." Sookie leans to hug you, and you step back, seeing a knife.

"Sook?" you say, nervously.

"Oh. Sorry." She giggles and then hugs you.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later."

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"To get Rory."

-

She skips along the sidewalk, jumping over the cracks. You get to the brick part, and she only walks on every second one, balancing. You hold her hand to keep her from falling. "So, what are we going to do now that we're rich?" you tease.

"Can we go to Disneyland?" she asks.

"Not that rich, babe." You explained to her that you were going to be a little busier at the inn from now on, and that meant some more money, but you're not too sure on how much she understands.

"Lindsey says the lines are really long, anyway." Rory trips a little, before going on. "Can we go to Luke's?"

You feel your face growing hot – hot enough to melt all of the snow and maybe all of the polar ice caps. You always thought the description of something being burned into your skin was stupid, but you can feel it there, and God, Rory's staring at you…you clear your throat loudly, trying to stall. "Well, hon…"

"Please?" she begs, tugging on your hand, turning those eyes on you.

"Fine," you concede, allowing yourself to be dragged into the diner.

-

It's crowded and you and Rory are able to slink to the only free table in the place without being noticed by Luke. Round one, and you are safely hidden.

Rory squirms on the seat, looking around. "What are we going to buy, Mommy?" she asks.

"I was thinking…a car," you say. "You know, so we don't have to walk everywhere in this town."

"A car?" Rory says. "Really?"

"Yeah. You want to help pick it out?"

She nods.

You see Luke over the crowd, heading for the table. You snag a menu, burying your face.

_You see the intensity of his eyes, his hand coming to brush your jaw, his lips getting closer to yours._

Cheeseburger or soup. Very important decision.

You bring the menu closer to your face.

_You feel a tear run down your cheek. You feel his lips on yours, lightly; you feel your hand slide to his cheek._

You're a brilliant shade of pink by the time that Luke edges through the crowd to your table. "Uh, hey," you say, your voice high. _Stupid!_

"Hey," he says. You can feel him trying get a look at you. "Ready to order?"

"Coffee," you mumble, still staring at the menu. "And…uh…a cheeseburger. And onion rings."

"Alright. Rory?"

She tells him, and he leaves, and you wilt a little.

You're not good at this at all.

-

"He did what?" Sookie squeals.

"Sookie, God, shut up," you say, pressing a hand to your temple. The image of Wile E. Coyote falling off of the cliff too many times seems familiar to you. Between your utter failure in the diner earlier, and the fact that you barely slept, hammers are a knocking. "We kissed once. No big deal."

"But – but…but! You – and Luke! Kissed!" Her exclamation is a whisper now, and for that, you are grateful.

"Just a kiss. No big deal."

_Hypocrite._

She waves a spoon around – instinctively, you duck – and hugs you. "This is great, really great Oh, do you think you'll go out?"

"Hello. Six year old. Me. Not on the list of things guys my age look for. 'Hi, I'm Lorelai Gilmore. And can I get home by nine because my kid will start to freak if I'm not there when she goes to sleep?'"

"Luke is different," Sookie says. "He gave her a bike when he didn't even know you."

"He still barely knows us."

"He hates kids and listens to everything Rory has to say." Sookie looks triumphant, as if your daughter's charm has somehow willed Luke to you.

"I think we need to talk first," you say. "About it. Like adults."

"You haven't talked yet!" Sookie's eyes are wide. She drops the spoon and pushes you to the door. "Then go talk!"

-

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps, four.

You can do this.

You need to do this.

You need to air it out of your system. You need your questions answered.

A real talk about it.

You haul open the door of the diner, a woman on a mission.


	2. Butterfly

Thanks for the reviews, everyone! They are greatly loved and cherished and all that stuff.

Same spiel as last time: fourth in a series, picks up after "Jumping Fences," Au, pre-canon…and I would like to give this chapter a birthday shout out to **JavaForever**, because she rocks and I am very much in love with her writing. As evidenced by my recent gushing. Happy birthday! This one's yours.

Feedback is welcomed and craved. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Butterfly

You are just _so_ good at this.

You halt at the threshold of the diner, door still open behind you (just a little) and you find that your feet are glued in place. Odd, because you weren't that apprehensive (again, just a little) before. Before _before_. You've become better at jumping into stuff like that, but maybe you've overestimate yourself because you feel like your stomach has gone threw a blender.

Lovely image.

You make your feet walk along the diner floor in a straight line – bringing Rory to mind with her habits of walking on different bricks – and you sit primly at a stool, near the cash register. You're stiff in your anxiety.

"Hey," you say when Luke comes into your general area.

He gives you a look. "Hey," he replies.

It would be so easy to slip into the routine of coffee and insults and you can feel your words straining to go there.

God, you're not good at this at all. Who were you kidding?

You look over your shoulder; you can't see Babette or Miss Patty or East Side Tillie. You're safe. Home-free. "Can we…can we, uh, talk?" you mumble, stealing a look up at him.

Luke is silent. You fear that he's left you there, hanging, while he goes to give Mrs. X her fries. "Okay," he says. "When?"

"After you close?" you say.

He nods. "See you at ten."

You nod, before getting up and running. You've bought yourself some more time.

Oh, cowardly soul.

-

You sit on the floor, legs crossed, holding cards. Rory's going through a "Go Fish" craze, and who are you to dispute it? "Do you have any fives?" you ask, catching a sigh as it tries to escape.

"No." Rory struggles to keep a grip on her cards, one falls to the floor and you look away. "Go fish!"

"Fine," you tease, sticking out your tongue.

There's a tap at the door, and you stuff your cards into the pocket of your sweatshirt, giving Rory a smile. She giggles. "I wasn't gonna look at your cards, Mommy," she says.

"Like I trust you, cheater," you kid.

"I don't cheat! You cheat!"

"Nuh uh."

"Mommy!"

"I know you wouldn't, babe," you say, gently. "Just teasing."

"Me too," she replies, suddenly looking worried that you wouldn't know. You kiss her forehead, and head for the door.

It's Luke, a bit of snow resting on the top of his hat. Your first instinct is to brush it off. Natural, you know, because you spend your time taking care of someone else…but you're not sure if that's just it.

You could curse yourself for kissing back.

"Luke," you say, hanging off the doorway. You blush with the realization that you're wearing a sweatshirt that is practically see-through because you've had it since you were ten, and a pair of Barbie socks.

"Can I - ?" He nods to the inside of the potting shed, where Rory's sorting cards on the floor.

"Oh. Yeah." You step aside. "I thought…" You glance at Rory and clam up.

"I got Caesar to watch the place."

"Oh."

You sit awkwardly on the couch, beside Luke. Rory's eyes follow Luke's walk to the couch – she's curious. "Hi," she says.

"Hey, Rory," Luke says. "What are you doing?"

"I was winning against Mommy at 'Go Fish,'" she says.

"She likes to think so," you say. You want to hug that little girl to death.

Luke lets a smile loose. "So," he says.

"So," you repeat, trying to stall. "Uh, Rory, hon, do you want to go for a walk?"

"Can we finish the game later?" she asks.

"We can," you agree. "Before you go to bed."

"Okay." Rory leaves the cards in a pile. You give a fleeting thought to stacking them nicely, but it's not like you would anyway, so you let it go.

-

You and Luke and Rory walk along the path by the lake. Rory is ahead, wandering along, and it's like a sweet family movie: the young, gorgeous couple walking with the adorable small child. What one would that be, anyway? Your mind is sluggish.

"You're not talking." He's trying to joke, but it's tense, and he's waiting for you to put a spin on what direction the conversation will take.

"No." You look at the ice. "I don't know what to say."

"Great."

"Luke, why did you kiss me?" you blurt.

He swallows. "Lorelai, do you -"

"Regret? Care? Want to forget?" you shrug. "I don't know."

"Okay."

"Okay? Okay?"

"Well, I'm not sure what to say to that."

"Luke," you begin, feeling the dryness in your mouth, "I think you're my best friend."

He nods.

"I mean, I bother you every day and you let me harass you about coffee and you gave Rory a bike, which I still can't get over, and…I don't know; it's just weird." You shiver.

"Yeah?" You're not sure if he sounds hurt or not.

"Six years, Luke. Six years since I've even gone to a movie with _anyone_."

"Huh."

You drag the toe of your sneaker through some snow. "What are we going to do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"What do _you_ want to do?"

"Your call."

"Luke…come on."

"Lorelai, it…" he trails off, looking at Rory. "It wasn't smart. But it wasn't wrong."

"Glad we have that cleared up," you mumble.

"Yeah."

There's no decision, and you continue to walk along together, a kind of excited thrill in your chest.

-

You sit at the counter in the diner, in what you've come to think of as your stool. There's an uneasy truce between you and Luke – the consensus seems that you're not going to say anything.

But it's closing time, and you are still there. Luke makes a show of wiping the counter around you, and putting up chairs. "Don't you have a kid to go home to?" he demands.

"Yes," you say. "Of course, she is at Lane's…"

"Fine."

"I'm going, I'm going." You get up, putting down some money.

"Finally." He sounds exasperated, but there's a hint of a smile there.

"Hey, Luke…" You stop at the door. "I didn't mean that…"

"I know."

"You're my friend."

"I know. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay," you say softly, leaving.

You're disappointed. You're disappointed that he wants to go with the guard that you keep on your heart, and you're disappointed that you can still imagine kissing him again.

You give a glance back at the diner. Does he know that you're lying?

Does he know that you meant to ask him something else?

Luke catches you staring outside, and he stares back.

Oh, God, you hope he knows. Because the famously chatty Lorelai Gilmore can't find the words to say what she wants.


	3. Water

Again, thank you, everyone for reading and reviewing and so on. It is very much appreciated.

This is, of course, only a snippet in Inkverse, so there will only be a chapter or so of this story after this. This is a bit filler-y, but the world does go on around Luke and Lorelai…

Feedback is love, and enjoy!

Chapter 3: Water

"You're moping," Sookie declares.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Fine. I am." You keep staring straight ahead. The light, the way it shines off of the coffee maker is particularly transfixing this morning…

"Lorelai!" Sookie sounds frustrated. "What's _wrong_?"

"Nothing."

"You're in denial."

"No, I need coffee."

"You've had four cups, sweetie."

"The more the merrier." You grab the coffeepot and make a show of filling your mug.

"That doesn't even -" Sookie shakes her head. "Oh, no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no."

"What are you going on about?" you ask, still staring at the coffee maker and taking an absent gulp of coffee.

"Oh, no," she repeats.

You spit out the coffee. "_What_?"

"You're doing that thing…where you, uh, go…" Sookie bites her lip. "You know what, honey, I have to get on the…lunch dessert, so I'll talk you…later."

"Wait, I'm so confused," you say, straightening up, and leaving the coffee behind. "Sookie…"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Sookie asks.

"Yeah," you say.

"You look like…you're kind of pining or something…"

"I am not pining. Why would I be pining? That's ridiculous," you scoff.

"No, I don't think so."

"Frosting fumes have gotten to your head, Sook," you say firmly. "I've gotta go."

"Lorelai, come on," she says.

"I'll see you later," you say, letting the door swing behind you.

You stride through the lobby, smiling at a few guests, and stopping as soon as you get to the first landing on the stairs. You lean your back against the wall. You're wilting.

Sookie's right, of course, but it's hearing it said out loud that makes it harder.

One stupid little kiss. You could kick yourself.

-

"Alright, Rory," you say, taking the hand offered to you, "We have got to get some food."

"Can we get cookies?" she asks.

"Is that a question?" you tease. "We need cookies, kid, they're crucial."

"Double chocolate?"

"I have taught you well." You laugh as Rory pulls you into the market. She pushes a basket on you.

"I have homework, Mommy."

"They give homework in kindergarten, Rory?"

"Yes," she says.

"Or is this one of your crazy self-imposed mounds of homework because you freakishly love school?"

She sticks her tongue out at you, and you have your answer. "Oh, I love my little nut bar," you say, hugging her. "Where to?"

"Cookies!" she says.

"One-track mind," you reply.

A shadow looms over you as you study the display of cookies. You decide, that _looms_ is an appropriate term – it's Taylor, town selectman and Doose's Market owner, rule stickler and known for his OCD tendencies. "Hi, Taylor," you say cheerfully.

"Lorelai," he replies.

"Can I…help you?" you say.

"There's a town meeting tonight," he says.

"That's great, Taylor," you reply.

"I expect you there, Lorelai. As a citizen of Stars Hollow, you should be attending every meeting in order to have a say in your town. That is why we have these -"

"Whoa, Taylor," you say, holding up a hand. "What warrants this?"

"Your lack of participation in town events, Lorelai!"

"What?" you say. "I go to every festival. I buy ticket for every raffle. I dressed up for whatever you asked to last month, I -"

"Yes, yes, your participation in the fun aspects of the town are noted, Lorelai, but you must take a role in the serious parts of the town." Taylor glares at you. You repress a laugh. "As an adult in the town, you should take more of an interest."

You're twenty-one. As far as you'd like to think, you're a kid, most of the time. "Sure, Taylor," you agree. "What time is the meeting?"

He looks shocked. "It slipped my mind," you lie – obviously not knowing what time the meeting begins is equivalent to robbing a bank. "You know, work, Rory, graffiti-ing the gazebo…"

"Seven o'clock," he tells you finally, glaring.

"We'll be there," you say, picking up your basket and taking Rory's hand again.

-

Rory is quiet as you cross the town square with her. She still clutches your hand – you've gotten used to the one-handed life. "Mommy?" she says as you walk around the gazebo.

"Yes, hon?"

"I miss Daddy."

_Uh-oh_. You feel dread trapping you into silence. You didn't mention his phone call to her – she doesn't need to know about his pathetic excuses about why he couldn't come see her. "Well, Rory," you say, slowly, "how about you give him a call after the meeting? Does that seem like a good idea?"

She nods. "Mommy?" she asks again.

"Mmm?"

"Do you think he knows I miss him?"

You crouch down to look at her better. "He does," you say. "He knows."

The lie flies out so true, that you ca almost pretend it wasn't. You stand up again, blinking rapidly.

You _hate_ lying to her.

But she's perked up, and you smile. "I like Luke," she says. Back to her chatter. "He's funny."

"Yeah, he's a good guy," you agree. "Hey…"

"What?" Rory asks.

"Want to go grab some doughnuts before we go to the meeting?" you ask, knowing she would say yes.

"Okay!"

The two of you dash into the diner, bolting in front of the lone car on the streets of the town.

"In a rush?" Luke asks. He wipes off the counter.

"We've been cordially invited to the town meeting," you inform him.

"Cordially invited?" Luke says.

"Coerced and potentially threatened," you admit. "Apparently I'm not active enough in the town."

"Taylor's on a rampage again," Luke muses.

"Yeah." You dig for some money. "A dozen doughnuts, s'il vous plaît. Jelly, chocolate and sprinkled."

"For the meeting?"

"For me!" Rory says. "Doughnuts are one of the four food groups."

"What have you been teaching this child?" Luke demands.

"All the important stuff," you say. "The Bangles are the best band, pizza is gourmet, shoes are -"

He holds up a hand. "Rory, your mother is crazy. Do not listen to her."

Rory giggles. "Mommy is always crazy."

"Comforting," Luke mutters.

"Isn't it?" you reply.

"Doughnuts," he grunts, pushing the bag towards you. "Have fun at the meeting."

"Wait, you don't have to go?"

"Taylor knows better than to harangue me."

"_Fine_," you say, making a face. "See you."

He gives a salute and you leave the diner, heart leaping.

-

"How was the infamous town meeting?" Luke greets you as you stop in on the way to the inn from dropping Rory off.

"Are you aware how crazy everyone in this town is?" you ask.

"Since I've lived here my entire life, and have seen them do ridiculous things for no apparent reason all my life, yes."

You wrinkle your nose. "Coffee?"

"Coming up," he says.

You follow him to the counter. "Hey, Luke…"

"Yeah?"

You take a deep breath. The idea has been forming in your head all day, while the rest of you is warning that it's wrong. You have Rory. Rory knows Luke. The equation is bad. More contact than, "Coffee? Sure," will lead to you being stupid. But you want to end this strangeness between Luke and you. It's just enough to make you uncomfortable.

You can't stop thinking about the kiss. Why does it bother you so much?

"I need help," you say. "I want to buy a car, or something else with wheels and a motor, I don't really care what…but I know nothing about cars. At all. Want to come car shopping?"

"Sure," he says.

"Really?" you ask.

"Yeah. Wouldn't want any car salesman taking advantage of your ignorant state."

"How kind." You accept the coffee cup. "Tomorrow? Afternoon? That's when I can get Mia to watch Rory for me."

"I'll see you then."

You shake the cup. "Before then."

"God help me," Luke groans.

You smile, brighter than ever before.


	4. Saccharin

Thank you, everyone, for the reviews and support and all that stuff…it's great!

This is the last chapter in this segment of Inkverse – trust me, I have a lot more coming. It's taking over my brain. So look for the next piece soon-ish.

And lastly, feedback is encouraged! Enjoy.

Chapter 4: Saccharin

"It's perfect," you declare, clapping your hands together.

"It's a rusted sardine can," Luke says.

"Well, I didn't know you were so good with words," you say. "Gotta love the metaphor."

"It's going to fall apart."

"It's beautiful."

"It's a piece of crap."

"It was well-loved."

"The engine will fall out while you're driving."

"I want it," you tell him. "In fact, I want to marry this Jeep. I'll need to buy a ring, too."

Luke rolls his eyes. "You really want it?"

"Yes."

He grunts and takes a walk around it. "I can fix that…" he mumbles. "That can be replaces, this -" he bends to study whatever he's looking at, and you giggle.

"Luke, if you're going to have to fix everything on there, it's not worth it," you say.

"You want this," he says. "You should get what _you_ want."

You tilt your head at him. "Thank you," you say. Oh, God, you're getting teary. Which is ridiculous. You blink, look away, and then meet his eyes again. "Thank you."

He shrugs. "It's nothing."

You hug him anyway, standing in the middle of the lot at the used car dealership, on a bright February day. You admit, to yourself, that hugging Luke is not purely platonic on your part – God, how could it be, after all of your obsessing? – but it's still a nice, friendly gesture.

Luke looks embarrassed, and shuffles his feet. "Uh, I'll go do some bargaining for you."

"Why?" you ask.

"So you don't end up paying a ton of money for this…thing."

"And the insults keep on coming." You give him a mock-scowl. "I'll remember this."

"You better," he replies.

-

Rory's eyes are wide as she assesses the Jeep parked out in front of the potting shed. "What do you think?" you ask her.

"It needs a name," she says solemnly.

You laugh. "Alright, kiddo, you think of one, okay?"

"Okay." Rory rocks back and forth on her feet. "Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Can we go for a ride?"

"We sure can," you reply. "You want to go right now?"

"Yes!" Rory runs to the passenger door, and hesitates. You pull it open and lift her up. "Seatbelts, please."

"I know, Mommy."

You start the engine, and fiddle with radio. "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere!"

"Oh, you're so predictable," you say. "Anywhere it is."

You drive out of the inn's road. Freedom. You have freedom.

-

It's sweet that Luke comes to see you and Rory and the still-unchristened Jeep. It's sweet that he sits with you on the little step off the potting shed, and watches Rory make a few snow angels in the dying snow.

It's sweet, unbelievably so, and you hug your knees in an attempt to keep warm and to hold onto the feeling of happiness. It's almost too sweet. Artificial. It's there, and then it's gone. Insincere.

Do you really think that you don't deserve things like this?

No, you don't.

But you hold onto your legs, curling up, keeping close to yourself and not letting go.

"You've got one hell of a kid," Luke mumbles, grinning at Rory, who is now trying to roll a snowball. She throws it at you.

"Oh, yeah." You stick your tongue out at her. "She's a keeper."

"Just like her crazy mother."

"I've never thrown a snowball at you," you protest.

"Don't need to."

"Making judgments on my level of crazy, are you? I think I'm offended." You stand up and make your way to the snow.

"What are you doing?" Luke demands.

You scoop up some snow. "Nothing at all."

"You – aw, jeez." Luke didn't make it out of range in time. He wipes snow from his neck. "You are eight."

"Thank you," you say.

He bends, a hand darting for the snow. You stay still, watching, wondering. He walks, getting closer and closer and closer – and in the instant he reaches for you, you know what he'll do.

It's icy, slipping down the back of your neck, chilling you. You shudder and shriek. "Mean!" you cry at him.

"Deserved," he counters.

"Nuh uh." You dive for another snowball, but Luke grabs your arm. "Not fair."

"It's in self-defence."

"Sure." You try to break free, but he holds on. "Alright, let me go now."

"Promise you won't throw more snow?"

"Promise."

Luke lets you step away, with a glare from him. You back up, smiling – and attempt another ambush. Tough luck for you – Luke is ready.

"Nice try," he tells you.

"It was worth it," you say. "What's the ransom?"

"For you to walk free?" He pretends to ponder it. "I'm supposed to ask for your soul, right?"

"I like my soul," you reply. "You can't have it."

"Too bad for me."

"I think so." You attempt a shrug.

You sit back on the step, with Luke. You cast a look at him, as you try to fish out a chunk of ice from your collar, and he smirks.

"Help would be appreciated," you say, twisting your arm around.

"Fine." He peels back your scarf, and plucks out the offending solid.

"Thanks." You toss the ice into the air, and let it fall to the ground. "Also, thanks for the help with the Jeep."

"You're welcome."

"It means a lot."

"It wasn't much."

"Still."

It happens again: that feeling of not knowing quite what is happening. Except that it is you this time, and not him.

But you're still kissing.

He meets your eyes again, after, while Rory stares. You reach your arms out to her and hug her. To keep the overflow of emotion inside.

You think of what you did last time. Brushed off the motion, pretended it never happened.

You know you can be different. You look over Rory's shoulder.

And Luke's eyes are agreeing, that yes, this time you can really try.

It's perfect.

You reach for his hand, and you feel that joy, bursting out.


End file.
